


How To Rule the World

by blakefancier



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, BDSM, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Infidelity, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Object Insertion, Other: See Story Notes, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slavery, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-17
Updated: 2013-10-17
Packaged: 2017-12-29 16:16:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Howard lost his company to Obadiah Stane, he also lost his freedom. For over seven years, Obi made his life a living hell. Now that Obi is dead, Howard does his best to fight his way back to some semblance of normalcy. Luckily he has Steve to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How To Rule the World

**Author's Note:**

> It was brought to my attention that people might actually try the fucking with a bottle thing. (If you haven't read the story yet, you'll see). Anyway, that is a very dangerous practice and it could seriously hurt you. Please do not use my stories as a how-to manual for kink or sex. Do research, find out what is safe. Please and thank you!
> 
> First of all, you should totally check out the art that hildestark created for this story. You should check it out and tell her how absolutely awesome it is. Please, go do that now before reading this story.
> 
> Here is the [art](http://hildestark.livejournal.com/1133.html).
> 
> Secondly, I just wanna say I'm sorry. This story is horrible and dark and horrible. And you probably shouldn't read it, because it's horrible. But you should definitely go comment on the art, because it is amazing. 
> 
> Thirdly, please take note of the warnings and the tags because this story is really, really, *really* dark.

Obi made a wet choking sound and his eyes rolled back in his head. Howard squeezed a bit tighter, just to be sure, just to be *positive*, that he was dead. Obi didn't move, didn't make another sound, and so Howard let go. Howard let go and scrambled back against the headboard. 

His eyes stung and his breath came in great sobbing gasps. He was glad. He was glad. He was, he was, he was. Obi deserved it. Obi deserved to die. 

_—"As you can see, " Obi said, gesturing to the paperwork in front of Howard, "it's all perfectly legal and airtight. The government takes embezzlement very seriously, Howard. It took a considerable amount of evidence to convince them of your guilt."_

_"You backstabbing bastard!" Howard lunged for Obi, but before he could touch the son-of-a-bitch, Obi's bodyguards grabbed him and pinned him to the chair. Obi smiled and walked over to the bar to pour a drink; Howard trembled in anger. "What about Maria?"_

_"What about her?" Obi lifted a glass of scotch to his mouth and took a drink. "Mm, the good stuff."_

_"Obi," he said in warning._

_"Your marriage has been dissolved, of course. She's of no use to me. But you and Tony, well, you're mine._

_"Tony?" Howard jerked his head in denial._

_"He is your heir apparent." Obi smiled. "I think he'll make a fine husband."_

_"You can't—"_

_"Oh, I think you'll find that I can." Obi gestured to the paperwork on his desk. "Section three, paragraph four deals directly with the issue."_

_"No, I mean, you really can't." Howard swallowed hard. God, this was a gamble. "He's promised to someone."_

_"There's no paperwork."_

_"There doesn't have to be when the military is involved," he said._

_"Quit grasping at straws, Howard." Obi snorted, finished the scotch in his glass, and poured himself another. "You didn't sell your own kid to the military."_

_"You're right, I didn't." Howard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Tony's betrothed to a Captain Steve Rogers. He's betrothed to Captain America."_

_The smug look melted from Obi's face. "You lying little shit."_

_"Ask Steve. Ask him, he'll tell you. Tony's betrothed to him. You're not going to get your filthy fucking hands on my kid!"_

_Obi stalked over to Howard and backhanded him. "I'm going to make your life a living hell."_

_Howard lifted his chin defiantly. "Do your worst."_

_"Oh, I plan on it." Obi gestured to Howard and said to his bodyguards, "Why don't you boys have some fun with him? Get him nice and dirty for me."_

_Howard struggled, but there were two of them. Three when Obi got involved, too.—_

He stared at Obi for a long time. No one would bother them until morning. By then Obi would be cold and stiff. "You shouldn't have taken off the control collar," he said matter-of-factly. "You shouldn't have—" He swallowed hard and pressed his lips together to keep from being sick.

God, everyone was going to be so disappointed in him. Steve and Maria were going to be so disappointed.

_—Obi shoved Howard into the room. He tried to keep to his feet, but his hands were bound behind his back and he hurt everywhere. He stumbled and just when he would have fallen, strong hands gripped his arms._

_"What the hell do you think you're doing, Stane?" Steve asked, fairly growling._

_Howard allowed himself a moment of weakness; he slumped against Steve's chest and let out a choked sound._

_"Let go of my property, Rogers." Obi said at the same time that Howard murmured, "Corporate takeover due to criminal activity."_

_"Like hell!" Steve stroked the sweat-soaked hair from Howard's face and gently lowered him onto a chair. Howard clenched his hands into fists and, for the first time in his life, he prayed that Steve would understand the implications of the situation. "You can't have Tony. He was promised to me."_

_Howard laughed, triumphantly. "I told you."_

_"You shut the fuck up!" Obi grabbed Howard by the hair and kicked the chair out from under him._

_"Leave him alone," Steve said, hands curling into fists,_

_"Mind your own goddamn business, *Captain*." Obi tightened his grip on Howard's hair._

_Howard gritted his teeth and blinked back tears. "It's okay, Steve. It's okay! Just… Just take care of Maria and Tony. I'll be all right."_

_Obi laughed, low and dark; it sent a shiver of fear down Howard's back. "You think that now. But by the time I'm done with you, Howard, you won't know up from down, left from right."_

_Howard didn't care as long as his family was safe._

_"I swear to God, Stane, if you don't let him go I'm going to knock you out, law or not." There was frustration in Steve's voice, frustration and anger._

_He wanted to tell Steve that he couldn't save everyone, but before he could open his mouth, Obi was dragging him out of the room. —_

Howard rubbed he eyes with the heels of his hands and forced himself to take a deep breath. He had a plan. He had a plan and now was not the time to deviate from it. He crawled over to the edge of the bed, reached underneath and pulled out a silver case, and set it on the bed. His hands shook as he keyed in the passcode, stomach clenching in sick pleasure as it opened to reveal a needle and a vial of Jekyll.

Obi had given him his first dose that night over seven years ago: his first dose after their first night. 

The party—

_—Howard was completely naked, arms bound over his head, his legs chained to rings set in the floor. There was music playing softly in the background and the party guests milled around the room, talking, drinking, and staring at him. He tried not to look back at them. They didn't matter. Nobody mattered._

_Obi walked over, a bottle of whiskey in his hand, a smirk on his face. "Having a fun time, Howard?"_

_He clenched his hands and glared._

_"That's what I thought." Obi showed him the bottle. "Do you know what this is?"_

_"A cheap bottle of watered down whiskey." He sneered at the too pale liquid._

_"You don't expect me to give you the good stuff, do you?" Obi tapped the mouth of the bottle against Howard's lips; he jerked his head. "And I watered it down for your safety. I don't want to give you alcohol poisoning."_

_"I'm not drinking that shit," he said._

_"You're right, you're not. " Obi walked behind Howard and this time pressed the mouth of the bottle against his neck. "That would be no fun at all."_

_Howard shivered as he felt the bottle move slowly down his back to nestle—"No!" He tried to jerk his hips, but he couldn't move very far._

_Obi chuckled. "Relax, Howard. If you tense up, it's going to hurt."_

_"Don't," he said, his voice harsh. "Don't do this to me."_

_"Don't do what, Howard? Don't get you drunk? Don't fuck you with this bottle of whiskey in front of all my guests?" Obi leaned over and said, hotly, "What will you give me not to?"_

_"I…" He swallowed hard. "I was good to your father. Obadiah. When I took over his company, I was good to him. I was good to you. I set you free. I—" He choked back a cry as Obi shoved the bottle forward._

_"You broke my father." Obi moved the bottle in a brutal pace. "And now I'm going to break you."—_

No!

No, he didn't want to think about it anymore. He didn't… He couldn’t…

He picked up the needle and the vial and prepared a dose—he was a pro at it now, wasn't he?—big enough to kill him. 

He remembered—

_—He was bent over the back of the couch, his thighs wet, every part of him aching. He glared when Obi came into view and tried not to look at the needle the man was carrying._

_"We had a fun night, didn't we, Howard?" Obi smiled and gestured. Two men came forward to hold him still. "Do you know what this is?"_

_Howard spat at him._

_"No." Ob slapped him, hard enough to reopen his split lip. "It's a new drug that's slowly making a name for itself on the streets. The kids are calling it Jekyll. Do you know why?" Howard didn't reply, not that it mattered. "It's a funny drug. Highly addictive. It increases tactile sensitivity. Depending on how your brain choses to interpret it, that sensitivity can be extremely pleasurable or extremely painful. It's almost impossible to get the same reaction twice; every dose is different. Would you like to see how you react?"_

_"No!" Howard shook his head and struggled._

_But it was no use. It was never any use._

_As he was writhing in pain, screaming, Obi leaned over him and said. "Your boys in the lab cooked it up. You really should have watched them more carefully, Howard. You really should have watched *me* more carefully."—_

Howard hoped his death would be pleasurable, but even if it wasn't, it wouldn't matter. The household was used to hearing him scream

He slid the needle into a vein and injected the drug.

He took a deep breath, then another, then—his body convulsed in agony and he opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound emerged.

No sound emerged.

All he could hear was the pounding of his heart in his ears.

*****

Howard woke up in the hospital.

_—"If you weren't so disobedient, I wouldn't have to beat you so badly, Howard." Obi ran a hand through his hair and tsked softly. "Why can't you be good? Why can't you just break?"_

_Howard stared up at him, his aching body tense with anger and hate._

_"They're sending in a caseworker to talk with you, Howard. They want to make sure I'm not abusing you." Obi smiled and grabbed a fistful of his hair; he flinched. "You're gonna convince him that it was all just an accident. A sex game you were playing with one of the staff that went a little too far."_

_"Why would I do that?" he asked._

_"Because if you don't, I'm going to hire someone to put a bullet in Maria's brain." Obi leaned in. "Are we clear?"_

_"Yes," he gasped. "We're clear."—_

He blinked and tried to move his arms and legs, but they were strapped down. He was strapped down. He took a deep breath—it hurt, like his ribs were broken—and tried to speak. What came out as a pitiful croak. He grimaced, at some point he must have started screaming. He must have screamed for a long time because his throat felt raw.

He closed his eyes and drifted off.

***** 

The next time Howard opened his eyes, a cop was standing over him. His heart leapt into his throat because the last time—

_—Obi laughed softly and gestured to Howard. "Have fun with him, Commissioner. But leave him strapped down, he has a mean left hook. Oh, and try not to do anything too damaging."_

_"Don't worry, Stane. I won't hurt him too badly." The Commissioner leered down at Howard. "I've been waiting to fuck you over for a long time, you sanctimonious little prick."_

_Howard gave the man a pointed look. "I'm not the one with the little prick, you smug, overpaid, self-righteous rent-a-cop."—_

"—Stark? Are you listening to me?" the cop asked.

Howard stared at him dumbly. 

"Jesus." The cop sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I fucking hate it when I have to question junkies." 

***** 

Howard was heavily shackled before the guards took him to the visitor's room. They thought he was dangerous, that he was homicidal. 

He'd most likely get the death penalty. That's what happened to slaves who killed their masters. He wasn't sure why the verdict in his case was taking so long. 

Howard stumbled a bit when he saw who was waiting for him, and the guards had to drag him the rest of the way and toss him into a chair. 

Maria smiled at him, her eyes shining with tears, and said, "Hello, Howard."

It had been over seven years since he'd last saw her, so he didn't respond right away. Instead, he just looked at her, took all of her in. She was wearing that blue dress he liked, the one she'd bought for her birthday, and her hair was a cascade of curls down her back. There was a wedding ring on her finger, and he took a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that the diamond was smaller than the one he'd given her on their wedding day. 

"Hello, Maria. You look good." He smiled for her. "Congratulations. To you and to Robert." 

She touched her wedding ring. "If there had been any hope, Howard, you know—"

"Don't," he said sharply, then softened his tone, "I know, Maria. I'm glad. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy." 

"He's a good man and I love him." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I tried to visit you in the hospital, but they weren't letting anyone in. Not even Steve."

"How is he? How's Tony?" Obi made sure that very little news about them filtered to Howard.

"Steve is good."

He laughed softly. "Steve is always good." 

"Yeah." She smiled fondly at him and continued. "And Tony is… Tony."

"I don't know what means," he said after a moment. The last time he'd seen Tony, the boy had been five. 

"He's stubborn and brilliant and he drives me up the wall. In other words, he's a younger version of you." Her voice broke and he looked away from her. It took her a few moments to pull herself together, but when she did, she said, "We're doing what we can to help you."

"You shouldn't bother."

"Oh, fuck you, Howard!"

Some dark, painful emotion swelled in his chest. "Fuck me? Fuck *me*? Fuck you! Fuck everybody!" He tried to keep his voice even, but he couldn’t contain his anger. "He broke me, Maria. He *broke* me! By the end, I was sliding the needle into my own veins. I was spreading my legs for him. I was begging him to do all those dirty, filthy things I knew he liked! I—" 

"I don't give a fuck! I don’t give a fuck what you did to survive. Neither does Steve or Tony. We love you." She slapped her palms against the table. "I love you. I will always love you." 

"He broke me," he whispered, staring down at his hands.

"Not enough to save him." She rose to her feet when one of the guards cleared his throat and gestured to the clock. "I guess my time is up. I'll try to visit again."

He nodded and called her name just as she reached the door to leave. She stopped and turned to him. "I'll always love you, too."

Maria smiled and blew him a kiss.

***** 

The guards didn't bother shackling him and dragging him to the visitor's room for his next guest. Peggy just walked into his cell, glared at the guards until they left, then sat down next to him on his little bed.

"You're an idiot," she said, softly, like an endearment, and took his hand. "The dose was too small."

_—"You're an idiot," Peggy said as she stood over his hospital bed._

_His pulse jumped at the sight of her and for one hopeful moment, he was sure that she was going to save him. Then she smiled at him, sadly, and turned her back to him and he knew. He knew. "Obi would have beaten me no matter what."_

_"He only sent you to the hospital because you disobeyed him."_

_"You were there." He stomach twisted and he clenched his hand. "You saw what he did. You saw—" She saw every disgusting, perverted act._

_"Yes." She turned back to him, her face a mask of indifference. "We'll be seeing more of each other, Howard. I start as Obadiah's personal assistant on Monday."_

_He swallowed hard. "You want something from me."_

_"Keep your eyes open, tell me anything you think might be useful, you know the drill." She touched his arm. "If we can bring him down, maybe we can find a way to free you."_

_"The law—" He stopped and took a deep breath._

_"The law was enacted to protect the American people from a third Depression," she said._

_He gave her a tight, angry smile. "It was enacted to punish CEOs who fucked over their investors. The Feds were tired of bailing out big business and the American people were ready to revolt. Don't make it sound like an altruistic decision."_

_"Fine, It was a decision based solely on pure logic and cold reason. Now are you going to help me or not?"_

_Not, he wanted to say, but instead he quirked his lips and gave a small, painful shrug. "I don't know if I can, but I'll try."—_

"Never was good at chemistry," he said and squeezed her hand. "It was worse after you left. Everything was worse."

"I'm sorry. SHIELD needed me elsewhere."

"I know." He let go of her hand. "You were never going to be able to save me, were you?"

She shook her head. "No."

"And you're not going to help me now."

"SHIELD doesn't get involved in domestic matters." Peggy laughed bitterly. "After I leave here, I get on a plane to Afghanistan." 

Howard crossed his arms over his chest and shivered. He was cold and achy and he wished desperately for a needle full of Jekyll so he wouldn't care—the prison doctor told him the cravings would fade in time. "What about Stark Industries?"

"They're selling it off," she said gently. 

Of course they were. The company didn't have a CEO anymore, Obi had been childless, and a slave couldn’t own property. The board and stockholders needed to be paid somehow. "My grandfather built that company from nothing. I was going to give it to Tony." He looked up at her. "I didn't embezzle those funds."

"I know." Peggy reached over and stroked his hair. "Your only crime was that you were careless. You let a snake in the garden and it bit you."

He closed his eyes; he couldn't look at her anymore. "I'm tired." 

"I—" She sighed and pressed a kiss to his temple. "All right. Goodbye, Howard."

"Have fun in Afghanistan," he said. 

*****

"I will never again doubt the political influence of Captain America," Howard said as Steve led him into the dark, quiet house. "I'm still not sure how you managed to get me parole instead of…" He made a slicing motion across his throat. 

"I talked to some people, cashed in a few favors." Steve locked the door behind them and turned on a lamp. Warm light spilled out into a cozy looking living room. "I wasn't going to let them kill you, Howard."

He nodded and slipped his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 

"Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich." Steve put a hand on his back, then pulled away when Howard tensed. 

"No, I'm not hungry." His stomach was still tied in knots. "All I want to do is take a shower and get some sleep."

"Let me show you to your room." Howard followed Steve out of the living room and down a short hallway. "This is my room," Steve said. "Tony usually stays in the guest room at the end of the hall when he visits. And this one's yours. Maria sent over some things for you. But let me know if there's anything you need."

"I will." He swallowed hard. "Good night."

"Oh, wait." Steve took a small envelope out of his pocket and held it out. At Howard's confused look, Steve shrugged. "An officer at the jail gave it to me. Said it was your personal affects." 

"Thanks." Howard took the envelope, stepped into the bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind him. He sat on the bed, turned on the lamp on the nightstand, and stared at the envelope in his hands. He knew what it held—he'd been naked when the police hauled him away—and he should just toss the whole thing in the trash. Instead, he opened it and shook the contents into his hand. He stared at the two gold nipple rings, a lump in his throat. 

_—"It's been a year, Howard," Obi said, staring down at him._

_He was strapped naked to a table; he didn't know what Obi was planning, but he knew it wasn't good. "A year?"_

_"Our anniversary." Obi smiled. He looked like a mischievous boy, but Howard wasn’t fooled. "A whole year under my care." He caressed Howard's nipples. "I wasn't sure what to get you, then it came to me. You've been such a good boy lately, you deserve some jewelry."_

_"An engagement ring? You shouldn’t have," he said and earned a stinging blow across his mouth._

_"Nipple rings. I considered a Prince Albert, but maybe next year."—_

He closed his hand around the rings and took a deep breath. He should throw them out.

He knew he should.

A moment later, he took off his t-shirt and put the rings back in. Then he stripped, curled up on the bed, and closed his eyes.

***** 

Howard tried to sleep, but he kept tossing and turning. Jerking off didn't help. Only one thing would—he touched the needle marks on his arm—and he couldn't have that anymore. Eventually, he gave up and stumbled into the living room. Maybe some television would calm him. He sat on the couch, grabbed the remote, and let out a deep sigh. He turned on the TV and flipped through the channels. He was on the fifth rotation, when Steve came into the room.

"Can't sleep?" Steve asked, giving Howard a slow once over. It wasn't sexual, but it still left Howard feeling exposed. 

"No. I mean, yes." He fought the urge to cover himself. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I couldn't sleep either." Steve went to the cabinet at the other end of the room, took out a couple of glasses, and a bottle of liquor. "Want some whiskey?"

Howard's cock hardened and he brought his knees up to his chest to hide the fact. "No, I'm fine."

Steve poured himself a drink and sat on the couch next to Howard. "We could watch a movie?"

The smell of the whiskey left him reeling and he wanted… God, he wanted so many things. "I couldn't find anything good on TV." He handed Steve the remote. "Maybe you'll have better luck."

Steve turned on the TV and scrolled through the channels. "Oh, hey, _Sabrina_. I love Bogart in this." 

"Thank you," Howard said softly, after a few minutes, his eyes never leaving the movie.

"You just need time to settle in, Howard." Steve nudged his shoulder. "You spent over seven years with him. Give yourself a break."

"I'm still an asshole." He leaned his head back and stared up at the ceiling.

"You don't need to tell me that. Now shut up. I’m trying to watch the movie."

Howard smiled.

***** 

He woke to the smell of coffee and bacon. He lifted his face from where it was smushed up against the couch cushion and groaned as his body let him know it was unhappy with him. He slowly got to his feet, stretched, and then shuffled towards the sound of Steve's off-key singing.

Steve looked over his shoulder and smiled when Howard entered the kitchen. "Glad to see you're finally awake, sleepyhead." He laughed at Howard's grunt. "Coffee's there. I hope you like scrambled eggs and bacon." 

Howard poured himself a cup of coffee and didn't respond until he'd finished it. "Bacon and eggs are fine." He ran his hand though his hair, then poured himself another cup of coffee.

"You still look tired," Steve said as he plated the eggs and brought the food to the table. 

"I'll take a nap later." He set his cup of coffee on the table, then knelt on the floor next to Steve's chair. Steve tensed and Howard's stomach clenched.

_—"Fuck you," Howard said, gritting his teeth as Obi tried to shove a bit of potato into his mouth. He was on his knees next to the table, and he couldn't get up. Obi had made sure of that by binding his wrists to his ankles._

_"Take it, Howard. Don't make me shove it down your throat." Obi gripped his jaw and squeezed._

_"I'd rather choke!"—_

"Howard," Steve said, gently. "Why don't you sit on one of the chairs?" 

His face heated with embarrassment. He hurried to his feet and settled into a chair on Steve's left. "Right. I'm sorry. I just…"

"No harm, no foul." Steve quirked a smile at him. "I got the day off today. I thought we could spend some time around the house, maybe work on my motorcycle." 

"I didn't know they gave superheroes time off." He stared at his plate as he ate. It felt strange to sit at the table like this, as if he were Steve's equal.

"I'm not a superhero."

"You fight bad guys while wearing a red, white, and blue leather outfit, and you carry a shield as your weapon of choice." He glanced up to see Steve give him an exasperated look. "You're a superhero." 

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'm a superhero. A superhero who needs some help working on his bike."

"You always do."

"I'm just glad that I got my favorite mechanic back." Steve laid his hand on Howard's neck and squeezed gently. 

Howard relaxed into the touch with a sigh.

***** 

Howard was bored. Steve had gone back to work—whatever the hell that meant—and he was stuck puttering around the house. He'd taken apart every electronic and mechanical device that Steve owned and put them back together better than they had been before. But that hadn't taken him very long. Steve wasn't someone who accumulated a lot of things. Howard's grandfather had been the same way. It probably had something to do with growing up during the Great Depression, or growing up poor.

He tried spending time outside, but the neighbors glared at him, and all that space made his skin itch. 

He wasn't used to being alone. Every workday, Obi would drag him into the office and force him to kneel on the floor, so that everyone who came in could see how far he'd fallen.

_—"Green is definitely your color, Howard." Obi brushed the area above his upper lip, where his mustache used to be, then trailed a finger down the strap of the bra he was wearing. "It brings out your eyes."_

_Howard bit into the gag in his mouth and glared up at Obi._

_"I hear that Kenjiro Fujikawa likes green, too." Obi let out a deep sigh. "It's a pity that you'd make an ugly woman or I might have put you in make up. No matter. I'm sure that Kenjiro will appreciate this. You've been a pain in his ass for a very long time. Maybe he'll be a pain in yours today."—_

So he was bored and he didn't handle that well at all. He tried reading, tried watching TV, he even tried to cook something—luckily he was able clean up the smoke stain from the ceiling before Steve got home—but nothing helped. 

He was frustrated and unhappy and he wasn't sure what to do about it. He wasn't sure there was anything he *could* do about it. And that just made everything worse.

***** 

Howard woke up pissed, really pissed, and he didn’t know why. He rubbed his eyes, which were gritty with exhaustion, and staggered into the kitchen where Steve sat at the table reading a paper. 

"God, really?" he asked, stumbling to a stop in the middle of the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his bare chest and glared. "They have websites for that now. I mean, who reads newspapers anymore?"

Steve lifted his gaze from the paper and blinked at Howard. "I like newspapers."

"Yeah, because you're… you're… like a goddamn Methuselah." He threw his hands in the air in exasperation before crossing them again. 

"Watch your language," Steve admonished mildly. "And put on some pants."

A flare of rage surged up from the pit of Howard's stomach and let him momentarily breathless. He could feel himself shaking with the strength of it. "I'll wear what I want. I'll say whatever the *fuck* I want! Shit, whore, cunt, SON OF A BITCH!" Howard felt like crowing with triumph when Steve's cheeks reddened and his jaw clenched. "What's the matter, Cap? Too much for your virginal ears?"

"That's enough, Howard," Steve said, his words snapping with forcefulness.

Fear followed quickly behind the triumph; Howard lifted his chin defiantly. "Fuck you." He dropped his hands to his sides, fear twisting in his gut as Steve's eyes narrowed. "C'mon, Cap, I know you've heard worse. You've been in the military for years."

Steve slowly folded the newspaper and set it down on the table. "That doesn't mean I like it when people use that sort of language in my home." 

"So stop me," he said, his heart pounding in his chest, his cock growing heavy between his legs. Steve just sat there, looking at him, scrutinizing him like he was just some… some… some sort of possession. "Asshole, bastard, dipshit, motherfucker!" Steve got to his feet and Howard gasped and took a faltering step back. "P-P-Pussy-licker."

Steve surged forward quickly, grabbed Howard by the chin, and looked him in the eyes. 

Howard felt caught, trapped by Steve's knowing gaze. His breath quickened until he was panting and his cock was so hard that it hurt.

"Howard?" Steve tilted his head.

"Do it," he said, sounding desperate and scared. "Come on, do it! Break me. I know you want to. I can see it in your eyes." Steve didn't move and Howard… God, what did he have to do, give Steve an engraved invitation? "Break me, you cocksucker!"

Steve gave the tiniest of nods and released Howard's chin. Then he took a step back and… and the once over he gave Howard was slow and possessive. Steve lingered on the front of Howard's tented boxers, his lips curling in disgust. "Looks to me like you're the cocksucker." Steve looked him in the eyes again. "Take off your underwear." 

He slipped his thumbs under the waistband, pushed them down off his hips, and let them fall to the floor. His cock bobbed in the air, the head wet and dark with arousal.

"Whore," Steve said softly. "Slut."

Howard made a sound of distress and his whole body tensed as he waited…. Waited for something, he wasn’t sure what.

Then Steve gripped the back of his neck and said, "Slave."

Desire slammed though his body; he jerked his hips with a cry, precome spurting from his cock.

"Say it."

He opened his mouth to say 'no', to say 'fuck you.' "S-Slave. I'm… I'm your slave."

"Don't move." Steve walked over to the fridge, took out a Coke—the kind in the small glass bottle—and opened it up. He leaned back against one of the counters, sipped the soda, and watched Howard fight the urge to squirm. "You're awful excited, Howard. You usually drip so much?"

Howard's face flushed. "Yes."

"Yeah, I thought so." Steve dumped the rest of the soda in the sink, then rinsed out the bottle. When he walked back to Howard, he was still holding it. "Take it," he said, holding it out. "With both hands."

He took the bottle; his hands shook.

Steve gestured to the bottle. "Show me how you're gonna worship my cock when I finally feed it to you."

Howard's mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed convulsively. "No," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to."

"Then hand it over." Steve stretched out his hand. "But if you give it to me, I won't fuck you with it. And that's what you want, isn't it, Howard? You want me to shove this glass bottle up your ass and fuck you with it until you come." Steve smiled and Howard wanted to die of embarrassment because of course Steve knew. Maybe Peggy had told him or maybe he'd seen the police interrogation video. Howard had been pretty out of it in the hospital and the police had questioned him for hours about Obi's death. "I thought you wanted to show me what a little cock sucking slut you were. Or do you want me to make you? You want me to shove that bottle down your throat? Make you *gag* on it."

He squeezed his eyes closed and shook his head.

"Open your eyes!" Steve commanded and Howard found himself obeying. "You want this to stop, Howard? Huh? All you gotta do is say 'red'. Say 'red' and I'll stop. Got it?" Once Howard nodded, he continued. "Good. Now either say 'red' or get that bottle into your mouth."

Howard nodded jerkily, then brought the bottle up to his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the lip and flicked it over the rim until it was wet and slick with his saliva. Then he took it into his mouth, all the way, and when it hit the back of his throat, he gagged. He pulled off quickly and glanced at Steve, who looked bored. His face grew hot with embarrassment and his cock twitched. "I can do better," he said desperately. 

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "I hope so." 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and swallowed down as much as he could. He bobbed his head, fucking his mouth, fast and brutal, moaning and gagging, spit dripping down his chin and the bottle. It was humiliating and arousing and he wanted to show Steve how good he could be.

"You are a hungry slut, aren't you?" Steve asked, voice cold; Howard shivered and made a choked sound. "Look at you. I bet your ass takes it just as well."

Howard couldn't stop himself from rolling his hips.

"That's enough." Steve gripped the bottle and removed it from Howard's mouth. Then he grabbed Howard by the back of the neck and shoved him over the table. "Don't move." 

He pressed his cheek against the table; behind him Steve opened one of the cupboards. A few moments later, Steve walked up behind him, set the Coke bottle on the table, and pushed two slick fingers up his ass. He moaned and rocked back on them.

"God, look at you," Steve said. "Already so eager. I bet you'll take the whole bottle up your ass."

"Yes." He moaned again, helplessly, fucking back on Steve's fingers, cock so hard it was painful. "I'm a slut. I'm a slut, a filthy slut, a cock-hungry slut. Please, fuck me, Please, please, please."

"Enough." Steve slapped his ass and his breath caught in his throat.

"Yeah. That. Please." He whimpered and lifted his ass.

Instead of hitting Howard again, Steve removed his fingers and grabbed the bottle. 

There was a sound of something wet spilling onto the floor, then Howard felt the mouth of the bottle against his hole. He opened his mouth to beg, but before he could get the words out, Steve was pushing the bottle inside of him. He keened; he'd forgot how cold and unyielding glass could be.

When it was almost all the way in, Steve stopped. "Howard?"

"'S good," he slurred. "'S so good." He shuddered and clenched around the bottle.

"I know." Steve gently rubbed the small of Howard's back. "Now I'm gonna fuck you. You want that, don't you, Howard? You wanna show me how dirty you are?"

"Yeah. Yeah, c'mon." Howard was ready. God, he was so ready.

The bottle made a wet, slurping sound when Steve pulled it out, then another when he pushed it back in.

Howard moaned and writhed helplessly as pleasure surged through him. "Please, please," he gasped until Steve did it again, until Steve was fucking him hard and fast. He scrambled for purchase against the table, but his sweaty hands just slipped over it and it didn't matter, none of it mattered because he was so close. So fucking close. Then Steve shifted the angle and pushed and Howard arched his back and wailed as his orgasm burned through him, hot and wild. The moment spiraling on forever until there was nothing left inside of him. He slumped against the table, shivering and exhausted. Steve removed the bottle, then moved around the room. A few minutes later, Howard felt a warm cloth against his ass; he protested softly.

"I know," Steve said, "but you're filthy." When Howard was sufficiently clean, Steve half-carried him to his bedroom and tucked him in. Then Steve crawled into bed with him. "You okay?"

Howard nodded. He was so exhausted that he could barely keep his eyes open. "Yeah."

"We gotta talk about this. After you've napped." Steve stroked the hair back from his face and kissed his forehead.

"What about you? Did you come?" He curled against Steve, feeling warm and safe.

"I'm fine. Don't worry about it. Just sleep, okay?"

He hummed softly and promised himself that when he woke up, he'd give Steve the blowjob of his life. 

***** 

When Howard woke hours later, he was still plastered against Steve's side, face mushed against Steve's chest. He tensed, slightly, disgust churning in his gut.

"I know you're awake, Howard," Steve said, gently running his fingers through Howard's hair.

It felt good like this, like he was a kid again and Steve was soothing some hurt neither one of his parents gave a damn about. His eyes stung and he wanted desperately to hug Steve and never let go. "I'm sorry, Uncle Steve. I'm so, so sorry." 

"You got nothing to apologize for." Steve put his arms around Howard. "Nothing at all. You're just trying to find your place in the world again, Howard. You think I don’t know how that is?"

"I made you—"

"You didn't make me do anything." Steve bopped him gently on the head. "I told you once, that if you ever needed me, I'd be there for you."

"You were talking about my dad, Uncle Steve. Not this." He gestured to the both of them.

"I meant for anything, Howard." Steve tugged on a lock of his hair and he looked. "I wish you'd let me take you to a shrink."

"No, no, shrinks!" He tried to pull away, but Steve wouldn't let him. 

"Settle down, Howard. I'm not going to force you to go." Steve sighed and rubbed his head. "You've always been a stubborn kid, stubborn and fierce, like your granddad. I remember the first time I saw you. It was only a couple of months after they thawed me out and your dad brought me to Sunday dinner." Howard groaned and buried his face against Steve's chest; Steve laughed. "There you were, all of three years old, running into the room, screaming at the top of your lungs. You saw me and stopped—"

"And then you called me a little ankle biter, which I took to heart."

"Hey, who's telling the story, you or me?" Steve asked in a fond voice. "Anyway, it's lucky I was wearing boots because otherwise you would have drawn blood."

Howard grunted softly but didn't respond; the story was pretty embarrassing and Steve was fond of telling it.

"You haven't called me 'Uncle Steve' in years."

He shrugged. "Felt weird. Especially since we look the same age."

"I don't mind." Steve cleared his throat. "Is this what you need, Howard? Do you need this?" Steve ran his hand down Howard's back.

Howard shivered, then answered, honestly, "Yes. This and… and the rest. I tried to deny it, Uncle Steve. I really, really did. But—" His voice broke and he struggled to compose himself before continuing. "But I can't. Every day I wake up feeling anxious and unsure. I don't know what you want from me and I need to know. I need it. I just… I'm screwed up. I'm screwed up and I don't think anyone can fix me."

"We'll deal with it, Howard. You and me, we'll deal with it. Everything is going to be okay."

Howard could almost believe him. 

***** 

Steve dragged him out of bed at six the next morning and had him stand in the middle of the living room. "Clasp your hands behind your back and spread your feet until they're shoulder's width apart. Good. Just like that."

Howard stared at him blearily. "What—"

"No talking unless spoken to." Steve slowly circled him. "We need to go over the rules."

The rules? It took Howard a moment to realize what Steve was talking about, then he almost laughed. God, Steve was such a military man.

"That's rule number one: you don't speak unless spoken to. Rule number two: you're to report to this spot every morning at six am sharp for inspection. Rule number three: you seem prefer being naked, so that's how you'll spend the day unless I tell you otherwise. Rule number four: I do anything you don't like, anything at all, and you use the safeword I gave you yesterday. In case you don't remember, it's 'red'. Repeat it."

"Red," Howard said softly.

Steve nodded. "Good. Rule number five: I expect you to follow my commands without hesitation. If you don't, you'll be punished."

He couldn't stop the shiver that traveled up his spine.

"Do you know how you'll be punished, Howard?" Steve gave him a piercing look. 

_—Howard's ass felt hot and swollen and each time Obi brought his palm down on it, Howard jerked and cried out._

_"Your cock's hard, Howard, hard and leaking all over my trousers." Obi pinched Howard's abused skin; he choked back a sound. "Who knew that the great Howard Stark would like being bent over a lap and spanked like a little boy?"_

_Howard shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed._

_"I bet I can make you come. I bet I will make you come."—_

"Spanking?" he asked, unable to hide the slight hitch in his voice.

Steve narrowed his eyes. "That really wouldn’t be a punishment, would it, Howard?"

His face grew hot and he looked down at the floor. "No, sir."

"You'll spend a lot of time cleaning the bathrooms with a toothbrush if you disobey."

"Yes, sir."

"Rule number six: I expect you on your knees, waiting for me, when I come home from work. I'll call you when I'm on my way." Steve reached over and touched Howard's cheek. "I'll add more rules as I think of them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir, I understand."

Steve smiled and gently kissed Howard on the forehead. "There's breakfast waiting for you in the dining room. When you're done, I want you to clean the kitchen. I left directions and cleaning supplies for you on the table."

Howard made a face; he should have expected that. Next time he'd have to keep any sexual activity away from where they eat and prepare food. 

***** 

Howard was kneeling on the floor, hands resting on his thighs, when Steve walked in through the front door. 

_—"The next time," Obi said, punctuating each word with a kick to Howard's ribs, "I tell you to kneel, you'd better goddamn *kneel*!"—_

Steve didn't say anything, or look at Howard, he just hung up his jacket, slipped off his boots, and settled himself onto the couch with a groan. The silence stretched between them and Howard shivered wondering what Steve was going to do. Then finally, Steve said, "Come here, Howard."

He crawled over to the couch, just to be safe and leaned against Steve's legs and looked up at him. 

Steve ran his fingers through Howard's hair. "How was your day?"

"I cleaned the kitchen." He rubbed his cheek against Steve's knee and sighed. "It took me most of the day. Then I read a little and took a nap."

"You were bored out of your mind," Steve said.

"Yeah." To be fair, he'd spent most of the past seven years being bored out of his skull. It was better than the alternative. 

"We'll have to fix that." Steve patted the couch. "Come up here. Your knees must be killing you."

They were; he climbed up onto the couch and leaned against Steve's side.

"I thought we could order in some Chinese food and watch a couple of movies. How does that sound?" Steve kept playing with Howard's hair, but, now that Howard thought about it, it wasn't that unusual. Steve *always* played with his hair, even before. 

"Can I pick the movies? I want to see something that was filmed after 1943," he said with a grin.

Steve rolled his eyes and flicked Howard's ear. "Fine, but you know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. No excessive nudity or gore. I remember, old man." 

"Mouthy," Steve said, swatting the back of Howard's head.

***** 

Howard stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom and did his best not to think about how good it would feel to slide a needle into his vein and let the cool euphoria of Jekyll soothe him before the drug hit full force. Pain that became almost pleasurable, and pleasure that became painful—the drug wiped away all thought, all emotion. There was no fear or disgust or anger when he was high, just pleasure and pain. He missed it, he ached for it… he wanted it.

He rolled over onto this stomach and buried his face into a pillow. He could do this. He was strong. He didn't need it, he didn't need anything, because he was safe.

Howard clenched his fingers into the pillow and screamed in frustration as desire gnawed at his belly. He—

_—The third time Obi injected Howard with Jekyll, he learned why so many people took it. There was the usual heady rush, like he had sucked in a mouthful of pure oxygen, but instead of pain… The sheets underneath him felt like a lover's caress. He moaned and rubbed back against it, the pleasure of it increasing, He wanted more. He wanted so much more. He rolled into his stomach, rutted up against the bed, pleasure heightening, leaving him panting, writhing until he couldn't contain it anymore and he came. And came and came and came until it hurt and the pain left him sobbing for me._

_Then Obi touched him and time became a blur of desire, hot and cold and more and stop until he blacked out._

_Until he woke up, his muscles cramping, his skin sticky with drying fluids, and began to cry.—_

He curled around the pillow, hugging it tightly to his chest. He didn't need Jekyll. God, he didn't need it. 

***** 

Howard stretched out on the couch, remote in hand, and channel surfed while he waited for the front door to open. When it did, he tensed, but didn't look over at Steve. It was all he could do not to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness.

He yawned and rubbed at his eyes, trying to ignore the heart pounding fear racing through his veins. Fear was better than need, was better than addiction. His cock was hard, leaking all over his belly, and he wanted to cover himself with his hands. Instead, he threw a leg over the back of the couch and arched his hips up.

Steve walked over to the couch and towered over him. "You've been so good these past few weeks, Howard."

He shrugged, then lifted the remote and began flipping through the channels again.

Steve plucked the remote from his hand, turned off the TV, and set the remote on the coffee table. "Get up."

Howard considered disobeying, but settled for a momentary hesitation before getting to his feet. He reached over and fiddled with one of the buttons on Steve's shirt.

"What's wrong?" Steve asked, running his fingers along Howard's jaw from ear to chin.

He shuddered at Steve's touch and shook his head.

Steve sighed, wrapped an arm around Howard's shoulders, and pulled him close. With his free hand, he gripped Howard's erection and stroked it.

Howard moaned, burying his face against Steve's neck, and rocked his hips.

"That's it. That's good, Howard. You're doing so good," Steve murmured, pressing soft kisses against his hair. It was embarrassing how safe and warm that made him feel, and how quickly Steve brought him to the edge of orgasm. "Go on. Come for me."

He let out a sharp cry, hips jerking, as he came undone.

Steve rubbed between Howard's shoulder blades and kissed his temple. "Better?"

Howard nodded, then shook his head.

"Tell me," Steve said.

He wrapped his arms around Steve and hugged him tightly. He didn’t want to tell Steve, didn’t want Steve to know how weak he was, how broken. 

Steve tugged at his hair. "I'm proud of you, Howard. And I *always* will be. Nothing you say will change that." 

Howard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can't stop thinking about Jekyll: how bad it felt, how good it felt, how much I still want it. Still need it. Why can't I stop thinking about it? Why can't I stop wanting it?"

"What can I do to help?" Steve asked and it brought tears to Howard's eyes because of course Steve wasn’t going to spout platitudes at him. 

"Give me something to do. Give me something to occupy my thoughts. The boredom is driving me crazy."

"Okay." Steve kissed his hair again. "I can do that. Now what do you say we get cleaned up and eat something?"

"All right." He let go of Steve and took a step back. "I'm sorry I broke the rules."

"Apology accepted." Steve smiled and ruffled his hair.

***** 

Howard's breath caught in his throat and he ran his hands over the dirty, rusted hood of the car. "It's a 1932 Ford Flathead Roadster. I used to have one. My—"

"You and your dad worked on it together." Steve smiled and rested his hand on Howard's shoulder. "I remember."

"He sold my cars," he said, voice unsteady. "He sold everything."

"I know. And I know how hard it is to have nothing but the memories. I know what it's like to want to touch something familiar." Steve cleared his throat. "I thought you could restore it."

Howard swallowed hard and looked at Steve. "Thank you."

Steve flushed. "You're welcome. Why don't you pop the hood and take a look at her."

"Yeah," he said, flexing his hands. He missed the smell of oil, the feel of cold metal, the pure joy of making something work again. "That sounds good."

*****

Howard was exhausted by the end of the day: physically, emotionally, and mentally. But for some reason he just couldn't settle down. Something wasn't right. Something was missing.

When he finally realized what it was, his face grew hot. Still, Steve said if he needed anything… Howard climbed out bed and made his way to Steve's bedroom door. After a slight hesitation, he gave a cursory knock and slipped into the room.

"Howard?" Steve was sitting in bed, reading. "What is it? What's wrong?" 

"I don't like sleeping alone," he said softly. Steve stared at him, then lifted the blankets. Howard climbed in before Steve could change his mind. "Good night."

Steve brushed the hair back from his forehead. "Sweet dreams."

He smiled, curled away from Steve, and closed his eyes.

***** 

Howard sat on the exam table and shivered slightly. He wished the doctor would turn up the heat in these rooms, or at least allow him to get dressed. He rubbed his arms and looked around the room, trying to find something interesting to focus on. Then the door opened.

_—Howard sat on the examination table and held very, very still. Too much movement aggravated his ribs and shoulders and brought a throbbing pain to his knees. When the door opened a few minutes later, he started slightly, then slid off the table to his feet. He kept his arms to his sides, eyes down, in a submissive gesture._

_"Name?" his caseworker asked._

_Howard chanced a quick glance up; the man was staring at him coldly. "Howard Stane, née Stark. Identification number: 587–65–4327."—_

He hopped off the table, arms at his side, and stared at his feet. He knew the drill, so before the caseworker asked, he said, "Howard Rogers, formerly Stane, née Stark. Identification number: 587–65–4327."

"Hello, Howard," said the caseworker. "My name is Margery Smith, I'll be your caseworker.

_—"I'm Mr. Barron. I'll be your caseworker now that Ms. Ryan has retired." Barron flipped through the files in his hands. "According to the doctor, you have massive bruising on your ribs, thighs, and upper back. Would you like to tell me how that happened?"_

_No, he wouldn't and he could tell by Barron's tone that the man wouldn't either. "Overenthusiastic sex games," he said, keeping his tone light._

_"That seems to happen to you quite often."_

_Howard gave Barron a coy look and smiled invitingly. When he spoke, his voice was rough and husky—Maria had jokingly called it his bedroom voice. "I just don't know when to quit, I suppose. It's always been a failing of mine."_

_Barron gave him a look of disgust.—_

"Howard? Howard!" Smith touched his arm and he started. "Are you all right?"

"Yes." He took a deep breath and smiled at her; she smiled back like she was humoring him. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Why don't you have a seat?" When he sat back down on the exam table, she pulled up a chair, clasped her hands in her lap, and gave him a piercing look. "The doctor says you're underweight."

Howard shrugged. "I've gained ten pounds."

"That's true." She gestured to him. "What happened to your hands?"

He lifted them up and flexed them: his knuckles were scraped and there was a bandage on his left hand. "It's one of the hazards of working with machinery."

Smith raised her eyebrows. "Captain Rogers is allowing you to build things?" 

Howard almost laughed. What did she think he was going to do, build a bomb? Well, okay, he probably could. Still… "Uncle Steve bought me a car. An old junker I could fix up."

"Uncle Steve?"

He bit back a curse at the slip-up. "Captain Rogers has a long history with my family, Ms. Smith." He knew that had to be in his file. "My grandfather was closely involved in the Super Soldier program during World War II. My father was the one who found the Captain and defrosted him. I've known him since I was three."

"Of course." She smiled at him blandly, but there was something about the look in her eyes that was eerily familiar. He wondered if maybe she was NSA or SHIELD.

***** 

Howard put the lasagna in the oven, then slipped on a pair of track pants before he knelt on the floor and waited for Steve to come home. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried not to think about the friend Steve was bringing for dinner. 

_—His jaw ached and mouth was filled with the bitter taste of come. Someone grabbed him by the hair, jerked him close, and shoved a cock in his mouth._

_Howard gagged.—_

He leaned over, panting harshly, and gagged.

No, no, no. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and made himself breathe through his nose, slow and easy. Steve wasn't like that. He knew Steve wasn't like that. Howard had to get himself under control before he embarrassed Steve in front of his friend.

Breathe in and out, he told himself, trust in Steve. 

The bitter taste in his mouth was just bile.

***** 

By the time Steve got home, Howard was calm, if not relaxed. Normally, Steve watched a bit of TV or puttered around before acknowledging Howard. But today Steve immediately walked up to him and held out a hand. Howard took it and pulled himself to his feet.

"I want you to meet my friend Sam Wilson. Sam, this is Howard Stark." Steve smiled, squeezed Howard's hand, then let go.

Wilson was an amiable looking young man. He held out his hand for Howard to shake, which Howard did. "It's nice to meet you."

"Where's your bird?" he asked, taking a step closer to Steve.

Wilson smiled and glanced out the window. "He prefers staying outside."

Howard looked at Steve. "Dinner will be ready in a half hour. Do you want me to get you two something to drink?"

"Yeah, that'd be great. Is a Coke all right, Sam?"

Sam murmured an affirmative and Howard hurried from the room. He took his time in the kitchen, wiping down the counters, putting away the dishes, before filling two glasses with ice, then pouring soda in them. When he walked back into the living room, both men were sitting on the couch, talking animatedly, Steve laughed, suddenly, and touched Wilson's arm.

Something dark and ugly burned low in Howard's belly and he fought the urge to throw the glasses across the room. Instead, he handed each man their drink, then sank to his knees. He leaned against Steve's legs and rubbed his cheek against Steve's thigh.

Steve gave him a surprised look; Wilson frowned. "You all right, Howard?"

"Yes," he said, allowing himself a tiny smile when Steve rested a hand on his hair. 

***** 

At dinner, Howard insisted on serving them. He brushed his hand along Wilson's side and gave a small, shy smile. He considered kneeling, but Steve gave him a pointed look and nodded to a chair.

Howard sat and ate quietly, listening to the conversation around him, doing his best to ignore the unease growing inside of him. 

When Wilson brought his glass up to his mouth, Howard slid a foot up his calf; Wilson choked.

"Are you all right?" Steve asked, reaching over to pound on Wilson's back.

"Fine. I'm fine!" Wilson coughed into his napkin and jerked his leg away. "It just went down wrong."

Howard gave him a concerned look. "Would you like some water?"

"No." Wilson frowned at him. "I'm good."

***** 

After dinner, they moved back to the living room. This time Howard settled between them on the couch; he was practically in Steve's lap. Neither one said anything, though Wilson kept shooting them funny looks. 

Howard nudged the conversation towards Steve's old team and when Steve was regaling them with a story about Bucky, Howard said, "You should show him pictures. Wouldn't you like to see pictures, Mr. Wilson?"

"You got pictures?" Wilson smiled. "Oh, yeah, I gotta see those." 

Steve rolled his eyes and nudged Howard in the ribs. "Thanks a lot."

"Go get them," he said. "I think they're in that box under your bed."

"All right. I'll be back." Steve pointed to Wilson. "You're not allowed to tell him about Orlando."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Wilson said with an innocent look on his face. 

He watched Steve disappear down the hallway, then turned to Wilson. His mouth went dry and his heart pounded in his chest and for a moment he almost lost his nerve. Then he remembered the way Steve looked at Wilson and he slid to his knees and reached for Wilson's belt buckle.

Wilson yelped and shoved Howard back. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Offering you a blowjob." Howard crawled forward and ran his hand up Wilson's leg. "He doesn't have to know."

"Get off me!" Wilson scrambled to his feet, almost stepping on Howard's hand, and stumbled away. 

"What's going on here?" Steve strode into the room, photo album in his hands, and looked around the room. "What's all the racket?"

Howard stood up, crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Nothing."

Wilson took a deep breath. "I should go. Howard is obviously uncomfortable with me here." 

"Sam, what happened?" 

"He came on to me." Wilson rubbed the back of his neck. "He offered me a blowjob." 

"He *what*?" Steve shot Howard an incredulous look. "You what? "

Howard shook his head. "He's lying. I never—"

"Howard!" Steve stared him down; Howard dropped his gaze. "Apologize."

"Apologize?" He clenched his hands, anger rushing through him so suddenly, he felt dizzy with it. He looked at Wilson. "Fuck you, there's your apology." Before Steve could admonish him further, he turned on the balls of his feet, and stormed to his room. He slammed the door behind him and sat on the bed, panting with fury. A good half hour later, Steve came into the room. "I'm not going to apologize."

"Sam and I got a call from SHIELD. There's a monster attack in New Jersey. They need all hands on deck." Steve ran a hand through his hair. "We will be talking about this when I get back, Howard. What you did was not okay."

"Go to hell!" He turned away and crossed his arms over his chest; a moment later, the door clicked shut.

***** 

It took over an hour for him to stop shaking, over an hour for the rage to slowly drain from his body, leaving him exhausted. He made his way to the living room, flopped on the couch, and turned on the TV. Every channel was covering the news: a giant octopus-like monster was making its way across the Jersey Shore. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cheer for the Avengers or the monster. 

He did a little of both, until the second and third monsters came into the picture. One of them looked like an enormous scorpion, stinger and all. It came close to running Steve through—then it wasn't funny anymore. Steve could die. 

He didn't want to watch anymore, but he needed to know what was going on. If something happened to Steve and he didn't know… the idea made him crazy.

How long could a battle like this last?

In his second hour of watching, he thought about taking out the almost full bottle of vodka from the freezer. His nerves couldn't handle this much anxiety. He wondered how the families of the other heroes managed it. He wondered if there was a support group.

He let out a startled gasp and jerked when the doorbell rang. He considered ignoring it, but it rang again. He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and went to answer it.

Howard opened the door and his breath caught. "Maria?"

"Hi," she said, smiling. "I hope you don't mind, but I saw the news and I thought you could use some company. Could you use some company?"

"Yes." He blinked rapidly and beckoned her inside. "Come in. Sit down."

Maria sat on the couch and gestured for him to sit next to her, which he did. She cuddled up next to him, her head on his shoulder. "He's going to be okay. He's tough."

"Of course he is. He's a Brooklyn boy." He took a deep, shaky breath. "We fought before he left. I told him to go to hell."

She slipped her hand in his. "And what? You think he didn't forgive you the moment you said it?"

"What if something happens to him?" He rested his cheek on her head.

"Nothing is going to happen to him." She gestured to the TV screen. "Look at him. He's amazing and he has amazing people fighting with him."

It took those amazing people five hours to take down those monsters. Steve looked exhausted; they all looked exhausted. Howard let out a sigh of relief and turned off the TV. "He probably won't get home until late morning." Fury would want a full debrief before letting anyone go home.

"Do you want me to stay here tonight?" Maria asked.

He knew he should say no, but… "It's late. It's probably safer if you stay the night. Robert knows you're here?"

"Yeah, he knows." She reached over and brushed her fingers over his upper lip. "You look younger without your mustache."

"At my age, that's good thing." He wrinkled his nose. 

"I miss it," she said softly. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too." Howard stroked her cheek and she parted her lips and he leaned in. 

Maria met him halfway, her mouth soft and yielding. She wrapped her arm around him, pulled him close, and let out a throaty moan that went straight to his cock.

He murmured her name and cupped her face.

She broke the kiss. "Bedroom. Now."

"Yes," he said. "God, yes." 

Maria was everything he remembered: warm and eager. Familiar, even though it had been years. He pressed kisses along her throat, teased her nipples to hardness with little nips and sucks. He wrote his name on her stomach with his tongue and worked her with his fingers until she writhed and begged him to take her.

She spread her legs and he pushed into her, fucked her. She raked her nails down his back, sucked bruises on his neck. "Harder. Fuck me harder. Make me feel it, Howard."

So he did. Each thrust brought a cry to her lips, made her shudder, made her dig her nails even deeper into his skin.

And when she came, flushed and sweaty and beautiful, he kissed her. He kissed her and came with her tight around him. 

He settled next to her on the bed, his hand pressed to her belly. He looked at her and saw that her eyes were wet. "I love you," he said.

"And I love you. I'll always love you." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "But I'm married to Robert."

"You used to be married to me." His voice broke and he had to look away for a moment.

"I know. But we're not married anymore." She pushed his arm away and climbed out of bed. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. But you know this was a mistake."

He closed his eyes. "A good mistake?"

"Howard, I'm going home," she said in a soft, trembling voice, as if that were all the answer he needed. He supposed it was.

 _—"When I'm done with you," Obi whispered harshly into his ear, "you won't be good for anything but fucking."—_

When she left, Howard curled up in Steve's bed and waited for him to come home.

***** 

Howard felt jittery, unsettled in his own skin, sick to his stomach. He tossed and turned, the darkness pressing down on him, until he was sweaty and panting. He fled to the kitchen for a glass of water and didn’t realize until he saw the knife block that he should have stayed away.

Obi had kept him away from sharp things. 

_—"Don't want you ruining my fun."—_

He took the paring knife out of the wood block and tested it on his thumb. He hissed softly, licking the blood away; Steve kept his knives razor sharp. It would take little effort to slice his wrists open and bleed out on the kitchen floor.

Of course, Steve would find him. Steve, who just spent hours fighting off a monster, would come into the kitchen and find Howard on the floor, dead. Steve would have to clean up the blood and…

Howard sank to the floor and set the knife down the ground. What if he miscalculated again? What if he survived? He drew his knees up to his chest and stared at the knife until his vision blurred and he had to close his eyes. 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there on the cold linoleum floor when he heard the front door open. Steve called out his name, but he didn't move. Then he heard the sound of Steve's boots on the floor and he looked up.

"Howard?" Steve strode across the room, kicked the knife away, and knelt in front of him. "What happened?"

"Maria came by," he said. His tongue felt thick and clumsy in his mouth and he struggled to get the words out. "She thought I could use the company. She… We… She said it was a mistake." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Steve touched his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Howard shook his head. "I should have known. He—Obi, he made me dirty."

"No," Steve said. "Howard, that's not true."

"It is! It's true. Look at what I tried to do to your friend Wilson. Look at what I made Maria do. "

"You didn't make Maria do *anything*, Howard. She's a grown woman, she can shoulder the blame for her own mistakes. As for Sam… that was my fault. You weren't ready for guests."

"What about the things you do for me?" Howard asked. "I know you don't like it. I know that it disgusts you. I know— I know—"

"Shh." Steve pulled Howard against his chest. "Hey, no. Howard, nothing we do together disgust me."

"I'm making you dirty, too, Uncle Steve. I am." He buried his face against Steve's chest and sobbed pitifully.

"No, no, you're not. You're not dirty. You're amazing." Steve rocked him and stroked his hair. "You're strong and intelligent and brave. God, Howard, don't you know I'd do anything for you?"

Howard wrapped his arms around Steve and clung to him.

"Hey, hey, do you remember when I tried to call you 'Howie'? Do you remember that?"

He almost laughed because that was Steve's second favorite story to tell about their first meeting.

"I called you 'Howie' and I don't even remember why. Maybe your father told me to. And you stood there, hands on your hips, a scowl on your face and you said, in this fierce little voice—" 

"My name is Howard Stark, and don't you forget it," he said.

"And I never did." Steve kissed him on the forehead. "And neither should you, Howard Stark. Now come on, let's get off this floor. It's making my bruises ache."

***** 

Howard had just finished washing the dishes from lunch when the doorbell rang. He frowned—he wasn't expecting anyone—and went to answer the door. He stopped only to slip on a pair of basketball shorts he kept near the coat closet.

He opened the door and his chest tightened. "Tony," he said. He hadn't seen the boy in over seven years, but there was no denying this was his son. He clasped his hands behind his back otherwise he might grab Tony and never let go.

Tony looked Howard up and down. "Nice nipple rings." Then Tony pushed his way past Howard into the house.

Howard closed the door, took a deep breath, and followed Tony into the living room. "I… I should put on a shirt."

"Okay," Tony said, gaze drawn to Howard's nipple rings; Howard crossed his arms over his chest.

"There's soda in the fridge. I won't be long." He raced to his bedroom, half afraid that when he got back, Tony would be gone. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then spent a good five minutes trying not to hyperventilate. Once he was as calm as he was going to get, he went back to the living room. 

Tony was settled on the couch, watching a movie, sipping on a Coke. He looked up when Howard entered the room. "You like _Enter the Dragon_?"

"Who doesn't?" He sat on the other end of the couch; he couldn't keep his eyes off Tony. "Does your mom know you're here?"

"No." Tony shrugged. "Mom and Dad would freak if they knew I was visiting you. Dad especially."

"Dad?"

"Robert adopted me after he and Mom got married." Tony tugged on a loose thread on his t-shirt. "I took his last name. They thought the Stark name would make things difficult for me."

That stung more that he thought it would. "Your parents were probably right. I'm glad they're looking out for you." He rubbed his mouth. "Why are you here, Tony?"

"I don't remember you."

Howard wondered if his heart was breaking; if so, it hurt like hell. "You were young when… when everything happened. And, honestly, I wasn't around much before. I wasn't a very good father. You're lucky to have Robert."

Tony made a dismissive sound and waved away Howard's words. "Mom says I'm like you. She says I'm exactly like you. I want to know what that means."

There were a million dismissive, cruel, or loving things Howard could say and he said none of them. "Do you want to see my car?"

"Your car?" Tony stared at him, a confused look on his face.

"I'm restoring a 1932 Roadster." 

Tony worried at his bottom lip. "We used to have one, didn't we?"

"Yeah." He rubbed his palms over his jeans. "Your grandfather and I worked on it together. I was going to finish rebuilding the engine today. You could help."

Tony smiled, his eyes lighting up. "Okay, sure. If you need the help." 

***** 

They were working with the garage door open, so when they saw Steve drive up on his bike, Tony let out a heavy sigh and wiped his hands on a towel. "Time to pay the piper."

Steve parked his bike, pulled off his helmet, and glared at Tony. "Why haven't you been answering your cell phone? Your parents are worried sick."

Tony rolled his eyes. "We're not married yet and already you're nagging." 

"Call your parents. Now." Steve turned to him. "And you—"

"Don't blame him. It's not his fault," Tony said, physically getting between them. "You wanna be pissed at someone, be pissed at me."

Steve sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Just get cleaned up and call your parents. I told them that when I found you that I'd take you straight home."

"Okay, okay." Tony headed inside. "Can we get a slice on the way? I’m starved."

"Go!" Steve pointed to the door.

"I'm sorry," Howard said when Tony had finally disappeared inside. "I should have sent him home."

"It's not your fault. Honestly, we've been expecting this. He's always been curious about you. I'm just surprised it took him this long to show up." 

He crossed his arms over his chest. "He won't be in too much trouble, will he?"

"Robert will be upset, but Maria…" Steve shrugged. "You’re his father and she wants him to know you."

"Yeah, well… You should feed him before you take him home. We've been working all afternoon without a break."

Steve opened his mouth to respond, but the door opened and Tony came back into the garage. 

He had his helmet tucked under his arm and there were still streaks of oil on his face. "I'm grounded for two weeks," he announced. "Don't worry, though, doesn't even come close to my record of six months." Tony gave him a sly smile; Howard smiled back. "You got an email?"

"No. Why? Do I need one?"

"Yes." Tony walked over to his workbench and scribbled something down on a sheet of paper. "Get one, then email me. I got some ideas I wanna talk about." He patted Howard on the back. "See you later, Pops." He walked over to Steve. "Let's go, Easy Rider. My grounding awaits."

A warm feeling bloomed in his chest as he watched them go and he smiled. 

**** 

Howard was already in bed by the time Steve got home. Steve crawled in beside him, pulling him close. He fit himself against Steve, his head on Steve's chest, a knee between Steve's thighs. "I didn't expect you home so late."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Maria and Robert wanted to talk." Steve ran his hand up and down Howard's back.

"Did Robert need to be reassured that I wouldn't hurt Tony?" he asked, bitterly.

Steve was silent for a good minute. "He doesn't know you like Maria and I do."

Howard closed his eyes and fought back the tide of angry words that threatened to spill from his lips. "He took my family from me."

"Robert?" Steve jerked slightly.

"Obi." He grabbed Steve's hip and squeezed. "He took my wife from me. He took my son. He took everything."

"No." Steve pushed him back and looked him in the eyes. "No, he didn't. You still have friends and family who love you. Maria would walk over hot coals for you. Peggy broke Fury's nose because he said you were expendable. And Tony… Tony will *always* be your son."

"And you?" Howard asked.

Steve pressed his forehead to Howard's. "I will be whoever and whatever you need me to be, Howard. I am never gonna leave you. Never."

He sniffled and nodded. "Do you think… Do you think if I got help, they'd let me see Tony?"

"I don't think Thor could keep Tony away from you." Steve grinned. "But it would ease Robert's mind."

Howard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Will you set up something? Please?" 

"Of course," Steve said. 

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Uncle Steve." 

"I feel the same way, kiddo. You Starks are in my blood." Steve ran his fingers through Howard's hair. "Think you can sleep or do you want to watch a movie?"

"I think I can sleep." He cuddled up against Steve and closed his eyes. "Love you."

"Love you, too." Steve brushed his mouth against Howard's forehead. "Howie."

"That's Howard Stark to you," he said with a smile. "And don't you forget it."


End file.
